Squished
by BakenPancakes
Summary: A "novelization" of sorts of scenes from the original 1990 movie. The boys suffer their first defeat and Leonardo has nothing else to do but think. Think about life, death, responsibility, family, and Wile E. Coyote. There's a metaphor in there somewhere. Mild, movie-level language.


Author's Note: I literally had a dream about the original 1990 movie, and felt compelled to write this for mysterious reasons. Takes place in the time after they fled April's apartment and before they return to New York. Some version of these events happen in a bunch of their different series, this is a deep dive of the film version (with some slight artistic licenses) from Leo's POV. One shot. Mild, movie-level language.

 **Squished**

We were bring driven by a person I didn't know, to a place I had never been. There were a thousand questions I could ask, should probably ask. _This guy knows Raph?_ What does that even mean? Knows him from where? Everyone just seemed to roll with that. I was rolling with it now, just sitting in the back of April's van, nothing but fire behind us.

I wanted to say something. Wanted to assess the situation, offer assurances. But all I could do was stare at him, lifeless on the floor, herky jerky with every bump in the road. Lifeless. Mikey got knocked out cold once. It was a complete accident, we had found a bowling ball, Donny was trying to prove something about...torque? But in that moment, as scared as we all were, I would have never thought to call him "lifeless." Konked out, maybe. Clobbered. KO'd.

This was not that. There was no heft to him now. He looked like he was made of paper, flat and pale. Light. Like something had left. "Huh?" I said, instinctively feeling that someone had called my name, even though I didn't really hear it.

"He'll be all right," Donatello said. He reached out to touch me, and then thought better of it. He'll be all right. That did not feel like the truth, and it was even more absurd coming from Donatello, who always needed everyone to show their work. What evidence was there to assume any of us were going to be all right? It was like he had wandered in from another scene, where someone had just skinned their knee or broke their favorite toy. No one could possibly be looking at what I was looking at and conclude, "He'll be all right."

I made this happen.

It was a strange, childish thought, but I couldn't shake it. If we had any evidence of anything at the moment, it was that. I thought about something happening and then it happened, hours later. We don't need you, I said, and I meant it. You're going to get us all killed, I thought, and I meant it. You have a death wish, I thought. And it came true.

I wished him gone and now he was and I wanted so very much to puke everywhere, just empty myself and be as light as he was, jostled around by the slightest movement, completely unconcerned with physical space. I wanted to tear my skin off. I wanted to disappear. I was aware just then how tightly I had curled myself, how little space I was taking up. It was like the whole world had narrowed to a tiny pin point. All I could see was him, and what I had done.

When the doors to the van flew open, I felt like maybe I couldn't move. I felt like maybe I would cry, "Leave me!" and hurl myself on top of him and maybe I would have to be dragged out or that maybe I really would vomit, just like, Exorcism pea soup geysers everywhere.

But instead, I got out of the van. Instead, I stood silently, patiently, to grab my fair share of Raph as we carried him, _lifeless_ , into the house. The house. Where were we? Right, April's home. Where she grew up. Suddenly, April became a person to me again. Not just a buzzing shadow but a real person, who existed before us and would after us. What must it be like for her right now? What would it be like for us to go back? We had only left weeks ago but if we returned without them...There were other people who lived in this house once, but now it's just April.

I wanted to say something. Assess the situation, offer assurances. I felt her looking. I let myself look back. For a second, the pinhole opened up and we were standing together in the same space. "We need to get him to a bed," Donnie said, from some place outside us. We returned to the task at hand.

It occurred to us that "bed" was all we could offer. We stared at him, all of us, _lifeless_. "So is he like...in a coma?" Michelangelo asked. He sounded all tinny and hoarse. Like he was sending a transmission from some far away land. It was the first time I had let myself be aware of him since we fled.

"Yes, but that's a good thing," Donny said. This Casey guy started making a dubious sort of grunt in response, and it sounded so much like something Raph would do it almost startled me. _This guy knows Raph_. "I mean, I don't recommend falling into a coma as part of your skin care regimen but it means his body knows what to do. It's resting. It's making itself better."

That sounded just nice enough for us all to roll with it. We were in a rolling with it mood. "Umm...how about I go into town? Get us something to eat?" April asked.

Everyone mumbled a response. "I'll stay here," I said, realizing this was the first thing I had actually said in hours. Everyone sort of moved their mouths at me like goldfish, testing out various conversation trees in their heads until Donny just settled on, "OK."

Donny was really stepping up. Jerk.

In the morning, the full scope of "childhood bedroom" really came into focus. The walls were festooned with band posters and magazine pages of blank, smiling blonde boys. All looking beige on hot pink backgrounds, like a bunch of thumbs. Humans are so ugly.

Michelangelo sulked wordlessly into the room in the afternoon and started futzing with April's record player. After some false starts, the air was filled with the dulcet tones of The Go-Go's. Really loud.

Before I could object, Mikey explained, "It's for Raph."

I looked at him skeptically, then looked at Raph, and back at him.

"When we had to get up early, Raph would always set the alarm to a station he hated. Because then he was more motivated to get up and turn it off."

I nodded. As sound a medical plan as any. We sat there looking at him, while the girls sang about Vacation. "You know the old Road Runner cartoons?" Mikey asked suddenly, still staring at Raph.

"...yeah?"

"So like, the coyote always comes up with these stupid contraptions and like, you know that the boulder is gonna fall on him. You can see it. You can see how it's going. And you might even think to yourself, 'That boulder is going to fall on him.' And then it does."

"...ummm."

"But like, that doesn't mean it's your fault the coyote got squished. You know? You just called it out. You didn't make it happen. It was going to happen anyway."

"So...am I the road runner in this scenario?"

Mikey sighed deeply, frustrated with me on an existential level. This was the most he had said to me in what felt like years. "It's not a perfect metaphor, OK? The point is, you are the guy who doesn't want his brother to get squished by a boulder. I don't think any of the Looney Tunes characters were living that exact life, OK, but that's who you are. And Raph...Raph is a guy who was always going to get squished." He paused, and looked back at our brother in the strangest way, in a way I don't think I had ever looked at him. Acceptance? "He knew that, you know." he continued softly. "That he would get squished. It's not like he wanted to. He just didn't want to spend all his time trying not to. That's what we have you for," he said, looking at me in the same way.

I almost didn't recognize him. Who was this grown ass adult standing next to me? I thought he had always leaned into the "baby" role as much as it was thrown upon him. I thought we all took it upon ourselves to protect him. Did he and Raph talk about this stuff? This grown up stuff that I thought he wasn't interested in? Or did he see more than I gave him credit for?

"Anyway," he said in a sing songy voice, breaking the spell. "I miss him."

"Me too."

It was mid-afternoon when it happened. I was in the middle of one of my frequent cat naps I had taken up in lieu of actually going to bed. I convinced myself that I had elevated the art of sleep. That this was how true warriors did it. I think I had maybe just started to dream when I was awoken by a weird feeling that someone else was in the room.

I snapped to attention and saw him, groggily standing at the record player. "How do you turn off this crap?" he said, slapping impotently at various knobs and dials. He finally just yanked the needle off, cutting Susanna Hoffs off in a strangled yelp, before turning around and throwing himself back on the bed. Like we were trying to get him up for training. Just like Mikey had said.

I sat blinking, wondering if I had just hallucinated the whole thing. And then he shot up to a sitting position so fast I jumped. "Where is everyone?!" he said, wild eyed, piecing together the last thing he remembered.

"We're here! We're all here, everyone's OK," I said, leaping to sit on the foot of the bed. Everyone's OK. I almost sobbed just being able to say it and mean it...almost. "Even your friend, Casey, he's here."

"What?"

"He's...fun."

Raph slowly started to take in his surroundings, squinting at the room as if it was the face of the sun. "What year is it?"

"We're in April's childhood bedroom."

"Ew, that sounds weird, don't say that."

"It does, sorry."

"How long?"

"Two weeks, 3 days," I said, leaving off the 6 hours and 22 minutes.

I had noticed in that moment that he was still in a type of fighter stance, muscles tense and alert, ready to uncoil from the bed and defend himself if needed. He slumped when he heard that. The fire escaped from him, and he sunk back into the pillows. "Damn." he said, defeated. "That is a long ass time."

"It is." I sighed, still feeling a thousand yards away from him. "Raph?"

"NOPE!" he threw his head back. He knew what was coming. He knew he would be expected to have some kind of heart to heart, and the fire returned to him all at once.

"Seriously, shut up a second."

"NOOOOOOOPE!"

"We need to..."

"No, we don't. We can keep things unsaid."

"I really want to..."

"That's how I like the things."

"I don't care! While you've been taking a little nap, I've just been sitting here doing nothing but thinking about how screwed up everything is, and how screwed up you are, and how you might never come back. So if maybe I have a feeling or two about that, you are going to shut up and deal with it."

His arms were folded. He looked 6. "Fair enough."

"Thanks," I said, not meaning that at all. "So, about what I said..."

He groaned in absolute agony and I could not care less. "SHUT UP!" I yelled finally.

"NO!"

"YES! When I said those things, I said them to hurt you!" I blurted out before he could stop me. "And it just felt really effing good to hurt someone." Especially you, I thought. You who always seemed invincible, when I was feeling so useless. I realized he was actually quiet for a moment, so I hazarded on. "But then the things I said happened. And it felt worse than I could have ever possibly imagined." He dared to look at me then, and I could tell he instantly regretted it. He sunk back into the pillows again, but not as empty as before. "So I need you to know. I need you to keep somewhere in your messed up stupid crazy coyote brain...that _we_ need you _here_."

He held my gaze, and for the first time, it didn't feel like all the energy in the room was trying to wriggle free. I knew then he needed to hear it as much as I needed to say it. And that maybe for the first time, he believed me. "If I let you hug me, can we end this conversation immediately?" he asked in a low voice.

I considered the offer. "Yes."

"Bring it in."

I didn't know how much I wanted to do just that. I flung my arms around his rigid, painfully uncomfortable body, solid and full of fire. He did not return the gesture. But I felt his shoulders relax a tiny centimeter, and I knew that was the best I was going to get.

"YOU GUYS!" April's voice shrieked. We both snapped our attention to the doorway to see the entire population of the house standing there, grinning like idiots. April was crying in that cute way women do.

And like that, our other brothers were upon us, each chattering, hugging, hitting, threatening violence. "I gave you like 8 Dutch ovens," Mikey revealed gleefully, hitting him with a pillow. "I'm so angry with you," Don said, though he was laughing. "I'm so happy but I am so mad."

That night, I meditated. It was the first time I was able to. The first time my mind could drift to anything other than fear. And I thought about why I was so intent on waiting. We argued because Raph wanted to know what we were waiting for. I didn't know. It just seemed like ever since he brought April home, terrible things happened. So maybe I thought it was best to do nothing, since something would get us killed.

But on the other hand, if Raph didn't bring April home, we wouldn't have April. And if he didn't sneak off at night, we wouldn't have Casey. And we would have never come here, to this farm, with the trees and the birds and the stars. And I would have never missed New York. I realized that even if we were never really a part of that city, it was a part of us. And if we returned, I knew it couldn't just be for Splinter. It would be to take it back.

"So..."

"We're with you, Leo," Raph cut me off.

"Yeah, duh, of course we are," Mikey chimed in. "Always," said Donny.

"Guys, I had a whole thing for this. How it's going to be dangerous and you don't have to..."

"But we're gonna."

"But you don't have to..."

"LEO," Raph placed his hand on my shoulder. Do we touch now? Is this going to be our new thing? "We're with you."

"Where else we gonna be?" Mikey added.

I smiled. We felt better than before. Stronger. Breaking does that to you.


End file.
